Wild Roses
by pharo
Summary: He can't be the one to destroy her life.


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Wild Roses

Author: Pharo

Disclaimer: 'Alias' belongs to ABC, Bad Robot, and JJ Abrams.

Summary: He can't be the one to destroy her life.

Spoilers: "Almost Thirty Years".

Notes: EV Challenge – Five, Five, One.

Feedback: pharo@newyork.com

A cold October morning, the sweet smell of roses and lilacs wafts around the house. He looks around, scrunches up his nose, because he's not used to Arvin's house smelling of anything other than lemon pine-sol. 

"Jack, I'm glad you came," he exclaims and there's a firm shake with his right hand.

He's not sure of what to say. Arvin has never been one to smile, yet he is beaming and his smile seems to have no boundaries. He doesn't know what unnerves him more: the Cheshire cat smile or the fact that Arvin looks genuinely happy.

"I apologize for the impromptu call, but I have to introduce you to someone," Arvin says and ushers him into the living room.

"A business associate?" he asks, wondering which arms dealer he'll be wining with tonight.

"No, this is a personal call."

His brisk walk comes to a halt. Arvin breathes, lives, sleeps the business, but now, he sees a different man in front of him – one wearing khakis, a striped shirt, and sandals. He knows something is not right. Arvin Sloane does not wear sandals.

"Personal?"

"Yes."

Arvin motions for him to take a seat. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm not quite following."

Arvin paces the length of the wooden table a couple of times before turning to him. He clasps and unclasps his fingers before walking over to the bar. He would never have believed that Arvin could be nervous about anything if he had not been sitting on the armchair witnessing it.

"I met someone," he says with a smile. "I called you over because I wanted you to meet her."

"Oh," he asks in surprise. He can't imagine the man in front of him with a girlfriend.

"I – you know me well, Jack."

"Yes," he answers lamely.

"You're my best friend and I thought it was time that you get to know her. I should call her down," he says, pointing upstairs.

"Do you love her?"

Before Arvin can answer, they hear the click of heels against the white marble floor. Arvin has a twinkle in his eyes as he walks to the door. 

He stands up to be polite and his first thought is that she's as short as Arvin. Her blonde hair is in curls and a nervous smile plays on her lips when she sees him. She's wearing a simple silver necklace with a stone attached to it that sparkles in the light. Her eyes, a haunting shade of blue, seek out Arvin's and upon finding them, she seems to relax a little.

Arvin moves to hug her and whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh – a quiet laugh that makes Arvin smile again. He walks into the room with her and before Jack can say anything, he introduces them.

"This is Emily."

He shakes her warm hand and gives a little smile when he says, "Jack Bristow."

Arvin leads her to the couch and they sit down. He finds her hand and slowly intertwines his fingers with hers, holding on as if she'll disappear if he doesn't.

He doesn't need an answer to his earlier question. The way Arvin seems to relax in Emily's presence tells Jack all he needs to know. He doesn't want to believe it, thinks that the world have to end before Arvin could soften. 

He can feel in pit of stomach that things will never be the same again because Arvin Sloane is in love. He's human.

————

Darting eyes and quick, hushed tones. Arvin's hand shook when he put it on his shoulder. He had looked straight at him with pleading eyes and asked him for the favor – two or three days, just a visit now and then to make sure she was safe. He should've guessed that something was wrong by the way Arvin looked so worried, but he thought nothing of it at the time. He had told him that he'd do what he could and wished him a good trip.

It's windy and he thinks a storm is bound to blow into LA in a couple of hours, but he knows that this can not stop her from working on her garden. He slowly makes his way past the tulips and marigolds and is careful not to step on the sunflowers as he walks over to her.

"Emily," he calls out from the brick path. 

She turns around at the sound of his voice, smiles as she gives a little wave. She has a bandana on her head and is wearing baggy overalls that have dirt on the shins.

He smiles as he steps over the tomato plants to get to the corner of the garden where she is. She moves to hug him, but gestures at her appearance

"You two with your suits. I can't even give you a proper greeting," she says with a smile.

He settles for a nod from her instead.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" she asks, letting the wind carry away half her sentence.

"I came over to visit," he says, looking up at the sky. "Not a good day."

"Arvin's not home," she says as if it explains the dark skies overhead.

"I know."

"Is that why you came?" she asks and for a second, he thinks he sees that twinkle in her eyes.

"I thought you could use the company," he says. 

"Your company is always appreciated," she says, "but I somehow doubt this was all your accord. Did Arvin ask you to check up on me?"

He shakes his head a little too quickly for her to believe him. 

"He trusts you," he states.

"He worries too much," she says.

"Does he have something to worry about?" he asks raising an eyebrow.

"You know me better than that," she says, lightly slapping his arm. "No, he worries about everyone he cares about. Arvin's a good man."

He smiles at her naiveté. She has no reason to suspect her husband of being anything other than a saint. She has no idea about the backhanded agreements, the double crosses, the myriad of lies or the innocent people that get caught in them. She doesn't know that people like her husband – people like himself – sleep with guns in the top night table drawer. 

"Jack?" she asks, waving her hand in front of his face. Her ring catches his eye and he can't help feel a little pang of anger at the fact that a man like Arvin can be completely happy while he stands back and watches. He wishes he had someone like her to love him and make him forget about the missions when he came home.

He smiles apologetically before commenting on how beautiful her garden is.

"Thank you," she says, looking around. "Arvin had this space cleared out for me."

"I never took him to be a flower man."

"He's not, but it makes me happy to have a little place to get away sometimes," she says with a grin, "He loves making people happy."

He fakes a smile. Arvin Sloane has his share of secrets that she knows nothing of.

————

Loose tie, circles under his eyes; Arvin Sloane looks like he's in hell when Jack walks into the hospital. He convinces Arvin to go home and get some rest – "it won't help her any to see you like this." Arvin looks at him with lost eyes and vehemently shakes his head, telling him that he has to be there when she walks up. 

"She has to know that I'm here for her."

"She does," he says. "Look, go home and I'll stay. I'll call you the second things change."

"Jack, you shouldn't—"

"I don't have anywhere else to be."

Arvin's eyes go to her door before he slowly gives in.

"If she wakes up and I'm not – tell her that I love her."

"Agent Stevens will drive you home."

"I don't need—"

"This is what we pay them for, Arvin."

After more convincing words and a push toward the exit sign, he is alone to watch her through the six by eight Plexiglas window of her door. He takes a few deep breaths before walking into the room that smells of disinfectant and Clorox. The only sound other than his footsteps is the steady beep of the heart monitor – the only indication from his place at the door that she's alive. Her skin matches the color of the white hospital nightgown she has on. 

He's not sure of what he's supposed to do as he takes the seat next to her bed. He is not her husband that he can hold onto her frail hand and kiss it while whispering that he loves her. Instead, he picks up the magazine he brought with him and flips to the page that he had marked with a folded edge on the way to the hospital. 

"I saw this at the newspaper stand and it reminded me of your garden," he says, pointing to a picture of a batch of stained glass flowers. "Now, Arvin's not very good with the domestic life, Emily, so you have to be here to take care of the garden or else, there will just be weeds. And then that space will go to waste and his house will go back to that impersonal and business-like feeling."

"We can't let that happen," she whispers hoarsely.

He looks up from the magazine and smiles.

"Well, well, look who decided to join in."

"Where's Arvin?"

"I sent him home, Em."

"Wanted me all to yourself, did you?" she says slowly.

"You figured me out," he says with a grin. "I'll go call Arvin—"

"No," she says quickly, her fingers brushing his hand. "No, don't. I don't want him to see me like this."

"He doesn't care what you look like. He wants to be here for you."

She shakes her hand.

"I have you here."

He looks away.

"I – you don't want me to be here. You love Arvin."

"That's why he can't see me like this. Oh Jack, don't you see, I'm dying."

"Come on," he says, forcing himself to look up despite the truth in her words. "You'll be fine."

He finds himself wishing he could make it better for her, wishing he could fix this like he's fixed everything else.

"Oh Jack, do you think that I know? I've known for awhile that everything is not as it seems."

"I…I don't know what you're talking about," he says quickly.

"He knew something was wrong. He had you keep an eye on me while he was away because he was afraid that I'd find out. He was afraid I'd look into one of the drawers and find out that all the tests didn't come out well."

He knows it's the truth. Arvin had called him into the office a few months ago with red eyes and told him that he was going to lose her. Arvin flung a manila file at him and told him that she could never know. 

__

"What will that solve?"

"She can be happy."

"For how long?"

"Longer than if she knows."

He had sworn Arvin his silence, but every time he had gone over to the house or met in the garden or had a glass of wine, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to convince Arvin that he wasn't helping anyone by lying to her – that he had lied enough – but he knew that Arvin was right. Telling her would solve nothing.

"Emily, you've been through a lot today—" 

"Don't give me that, Jack. Look into my eyes and tell me that you had no idea."

His training has taught him that the best way to make things sound believable is through eye contact. He's lived his life by that theory, but he can't bring himself to look at her face, let alone lie straight through his teeth.

"I…I have to go call Arvin."

He leaves the room before she can respond. He forces himself to shut her door and walk to the pay phone to tell Arvin that his wife needs him.

————

Laughing children, a slight breeze, the creaking of abandoned swings. He finds her sitting on a park bench, watching little kids play tag in the playground. She smiles as they hide behind slides and run to fences for "home base". For a moment, she looks so happy and he considers leaving, but her eyes catch his before he can turn back.

"Thanks for coming," she says when he walks to her.

"I was going to drop by the house later," he says absently.

"No, you weren't," she says with a small smile. "You don't come by as often as you used to anymore."

He looks at the trees lining the park.

"Well you know, work's been hectic."

"Jack, I need you to be honest with me."

"I've always been honest—"

She shakes her head.

"No, I want the truth," she says. "The real truth. Not the truths that Arvin wants you to tell me."

"Did you two get in a fight?" he asks.

The wind carries her laugh and mingles it with the giggles of the running boys and girls. 

"He treats me like glass, Jack."

"You're precious," he says, adding, "to him."

"I need to know what else he's been keeping from me."

He starts to get up, but her hand on his arm stops him. He gently puts his hand over hers.

"This is something you need to talk to him about."

"So there is something I need to know," she says.

"I – please Em, don't ask me to do this."

"Do what? Tell me the truth?"

"Don't ask me to put our friendship before my friendship with Arvin," he says softly.

He knows it's not a matter of being loyal to Arvin. Men like Arvin don't deserve his protection and if circumstances had been different, he would not have hesitated to reveal his ugly secrets, but it's different now. He can't be the one to tell her that everything her husband – the man she loves – tells her is part of an intricate web of lies. That everything he tells her is part of Arvin Sloane's greater plan to keep her in the dark. As much as it hurts, he cares about her too much to destroy her life like that – to have her second guess everything and wonder which parts of the past ten years were lies and which were truths.

She wipes her eyes and tries to smile at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm just being silly, right?" she asks.

They both know that she's giving him a way out. He takes it.

"You just miss Arvin," he says.

"You're right, Jack. I don't know what came over me."

She pats his leg before getting up.

"I should head home. I'm feeling kind of tired."

He nods and tells her that it's a good idea. He watches her walk away until she becomes a small dot turning a corner.

————

Three short knocks and a muffled voice. He stumbles over empty vodka bottles and hits his knee on the edge of his coffee table as he makes his way to the door.

"Who is it?" he mumbles.

"Emily."

He stops a second and considers whether he wants to talk to her at the moment. He's about to tell her to go home when she knocks on the door again.

"I already know you're home, Jack. Be a gentleman and open the door."

He waits another second before unlatching the safeties and unlocking the door. The sharp bright light of the hallway contrasts with his dark apartment and serves to hurt his eyes. He leans against the doorframe and squints his eyes.

"Yes?"

"I heard about Laura."

"I see Arvin's quite the gossip," he says, moving away from the door to let her in.

She flicks on the light on her way in. He's too tired to protest.

"How's Sydney?"

"At her grandmother's."

"Good."

"You don't think I'd let her see the complete destruction of her father, do you?"

She shakes her head sadly.

"It's a terrible thing."

"I don't believe it," he says. "Not for a second."

"It was raining pretty hard."

"She was a good driver."

"The best drivers wouldn't be able to handle that kind of weather."

He doesn't say anything. His eyes are searching the apartment for another bottle.

"Did Arvin send you?" he asks when he realizes that he's finished all the alcohol he had stored.

"I don't need Arvin to send me," she says defensively. "We're friends too, Jack."

"Why are you here?"

"I want you to come home with me."

"No," he says.

"It's better than sitting here and getting drunk, Jack."

He laughs. 

"I don't have any more vodka so I know that's not going to happen."

"Let's go, Jack," she says, pulling him to the door.

"I'm not going," he says, pulling away. "You can go back home to Arvin and put your guilt to rest by telling yourself that you did your best if it'll make you feel better."

She looks as if she's been slapped and he mentally kicks himself for hurting her.

"I—"

"Don't say anything you'll regret later."

Something explodes in him. Everything he's said to her for the past ten years has been a lie that he's regretted and now, when he's telling her the truth, she feels betrayed. 

"Just get out."

"What?"

"Go. Leave. Just – please."

"Jack, let me help you."

"No. You can't help me. Just go home, Emily," he says, turning away from her.

He feels a wave of sadness as she turns to leave because it's so easy for her to walk away from him. He starts to walk to the kitchen when he feels her hand on his shoulder. He turns around to look at her.

"You don't deserve this. I'm sorry it happened to you, Jack."

"So am I."

"Promise me you'll be all right," she whispers.

He forces a smile and nods.

"I'll be fine," he says. Even now when he can't see straight without squinting he feels the urge to lie to protect her. 

"I'm sorry," she says as she moves to hug him.

He doesn't know if it's the alcohol or the fact that she smells like wild roses that compels him to hold onto her longer than he should. He knows he should let her leave now – she's the wife of the man who is supposed to be his best friend, she doesn't feel that way about him – but he just stands there in the middle of his living room and softly places a kiss on her forehead, wishing for the moment to last as long as it can. 

She starts to pull away and this is when he sees the tears in her eyes. 

"I can't do this," she whispers.

"We're not doing anything," he says softly, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"If things were different…"

He shakes his head and steps back. He can't ruin the life she's built because it feels so nice to feel good – so nice to feel anything. He can't make her the person that'll help him forget his pain. She deserves more than that.

"The rain is getting pretty heavy out there," he says, pretending that nothing happened.

"I should probably start heading home."

"Arvin's probably getting worried."

She nods.

"Call me if you need anything," she says as she opens the door.

"'Night Em," he says with a little wave.

"Goodbye Jack."

He watches her drive away from his bedroom window. He can still smell roses and lilacs when he walks back to his living room.


End file.
